


perfection

by alesford



Series: these are only moments [2]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Wynaught Brotp, more angst than fluff but there's a happy ending, only subtle wayhaught, post-s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 05:47:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14826497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesford/pseuds/alesford
Summary: nicole haught gives so much of herself. to waverly, to wynonna, to her job, to her town. she wants to be perfect for all of them, but sometimes perfection isn't all it's made out to be.ORfour times nicole haught is perfect and one time she isn't.ORimposter syndrome is a thing.





	perfection

**Author's Note:**

> Please have some more of my Wynonna Earp nonsense.
> 
> Any and all mistakes are my own.

 

perfection

 

  
i.  
  
wynonna comes back to purgatory on a sunday.

she brings a thunderstorm with her, angry and loud with lightning crackling across the sky and thunder that booms so loud you can feel it in your chest. it’s harsh and wild and a little scary —

like the look in wynonna’s eyes.

but there’s also turmoil and something more.

nicole sees the something more when she opens the door to her home  
  
                                    (the home she’s made with waverly)  
  
and finds the older earp with grief written across her cheeks with tear stains and rainwater. she steps across the threshold wordlessly and nicole sits her on the sofa, fabric of the couch be damned.

she fetches a towel first, the fluffiest that they own, and kneels in front of wynonna with the towel just beside her. she unlaces the heavy motorcycle boots. the first comes off.

 

 _squelch_ .

and then the other.

 _squish_ .

 

wynonna peels off her leather jacket and drops it on the floor.

(wood floors be damned, too, nicole supposes.)

the towel goes around wynonna’s shoulders. she shivers and there are new tear tracks and no sounds except the beating of heavy hearts. nicole presses a kiss to wet hair and treads to the kitchen. she reaches for two mismatched coffee mugs in the drying rack and for the bottle on top of the fridge. ceramic and glass come together with a soft _clink_.

nicole knows what day it is. it’s why she pours more whiskey than she should into each of the mugs and hands one to wynonna without a word.

it’s been one month since they said goodbye to alice. since doc handed his daughter over to perry to fly, fly, away to a place unknown. since wynonna realized she could bring more than just darkness and death into the world. alice was light amidst all the shadows and the chaos. she is their light at the end of the tunnel; they’re going to bring her home one day.

‘i promise we’ll bring her home,’ she tells wynonna. her voice is firm and so, so sure.

they drink their whiskey in silence. it’s thick and suffocating but it’s a reminder of what isn’t there.

 

(a baby’s cry, a child’s giggle, the pattering of feet chasing happiness through the house — the sounds of a family with a mother and a father and a sweet little girl.)

 

‘you’re kind of perfect, you know.’

wynonna says it flippantly but there’s thanks in her eyes and the heaviness has lifted just a little. the thunderstorm outside is just a soft _tap tap tap_ of rain now, easing up to let the sun shine through the darkened sky.

  
  
  
  
ii.  
  
dolls asks for her help. nicole wonders if getting bitten by widow mercedes was the entrance fee to the cool kids club. it doesn’t matter, she knows. the black badge division is defunct in purgatory and she knows that nedley is right.

somebody has to look after the regular and the everyday sort of folks.

 

(not all evil has vicious teeth and red eyes and a penchant for out-of-style dress.  
                      case in point: tucker gardner)

 

but dolls asks for her help and she can’t say no. not when wynonna is on a reckless rampage against the revenants and doc is lost at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. not when jeremy is best playing scientist and waverly is in full-on research mode with texts she requested from the big city library.

(she’s trying to trace wyatt’s history more clearly. trying to find more revenants for the heir to send back to hell. trying to forget that she isn’t an earp by blood and that this isn’t her legacy as much as she wants it to be.)

so when dolls asks for help, nicole says, ‘what do you need?’ 

except what dolls needs isn’t an agent. he doesn’t need an extra set of eyes or another gun to watch his back. he doesn’t need brawn or brains. what he needs is _heart_ . what he needs is officer nicole haught, deputy of the purgatory sheriff’s department who cares about her town and its citizens. what he needs is _who_ she is, the person she’s become. a citizen of purgatory who the locals know and trust.

because he has to tell a mother that her son is dead. and he’s a supervisory deputy marshal but that doesn’t mean this part of the job is rote or easy for him. so he asks for nicole’s help and she goes with him without question. she knows the party lines at this point, knows where to obfuscate the truth and turn the focus to something banal. her reports of any work adjacent to bbd cases are dreadfully boring, which is just how nedley likes them. normal. everyday.

her boots crunch dead leaves and twigs as they trek across the yard to the front door of the simple craftsman style house. the brown paint is peeling and the porch feels a little uneven, sagging on the west side at the corner. nicole makes a mental note to send an exterminator out to check for termite damage.

dolls knocks on the door with three solid raps. there’s shuffling inside and eventually the door is answered by an older woman with graying hair and crows feet wrinkles around her eyes. nicole already has her hat off, looking the role of serious officer.

 

‘ma’am, i’m officer nicole haught and this is deputy marshal dolls. are you teresa gleason?’ she asks.

‘yes? have you found phillip?’

 

she’s running through the procedure detailed at the academy and then the advice that nedley gave her during her first week on the job. ask them to sit. be prepared for a physical reaction. expect denial. be prepared to tell them how you know it’s their loved one. be gentle. allow yourself to show emotion. the family needs to know that whatever they’re feeling is okay.

she goes through all of this with teresa gleason. dolls fills in the gaps with stretched truths here and there, but this is almost entirely nicole’s call.

her heart aches. she texts waverly a quick, ‘i love you’ before they get back in the cruiser to return to the station.

telling a mother that her son has died isn’t normal or everyday, even in purgatory. it’s a rare enough occurrence that it’s always painful and always rattles. nicole has only had to do it once before and she has a feeling that this is not one of those tasks that gets easier with time; she’s not sure she wants it to be.

when they get back to the station, dolls claps a hand on her shoulder, solid and secure.

‘thanks for that,’ he tells her. ‘you did that perfectly. better than i could have done.’

it’s a solemn acknowledgement. one that makes nicole proud to be a peace officer in this town. dolls nods once and then turns to disappear back into the bbd office.

it’s difficult to care sometimes. because it’s so easy to care too much. but nicole loves this place that has become her home. she’ll look after it as best she can.  
  
  
  
  
iii.  
  
waverly has the flu.

it isn’t just the _feel awful for a few days_ kind of flu either. it’s the _why is my body trying to murder me_ kind of flu. and waverly — lovely, town sweetheart waverly — is a terrible patient.

nicole is exhausted. she’s tired from work and from extracurricular, absolutely not work-work and from fighting to get calamity jane into her carrier to go to the vet because of course her cat had to get sick at the same time as her girlfriend.

murphy’s law.

she’s exhausted and all she wants to do is strip off her uniform, take a hot shower, and fall face first into bed until she has to be back on patrol in thirty-six hours.

but waverly is sick and waverly has the flu and waverly is curled up in their bed looking miserable and half-dazed. there’s a mountain of wadded tissues in and near the trash bin that has been relocated from the bathroom to nicole’s side of the bed, and nicole’s exhausted but she can’t be mad.

even if it is disgusting.

(she loves waverly. snot and all.)

she clears her side of the bed of lozenge wrappers and used tissues and then scrubs her hands and arms as if she is a surgeon preparing to enter the operating room. she grabs waverly’s reusable water bottle from the bedside table and heads to the kitchen to refill it and then to the bathroom to get another round of decongestant.

‘hi,’ waverly mumbles when nicole steps back into the bedroom. the replenished water bottle goes back to its place within arm’s reach along with a couple pills and a mug of hot chamomile.

‘hi,’ nicole says back. she smiles, a soft and tender sort of smile, and brushes her knuckles against waverly’s cheek before settling on her forehead. nicole frowns. ‘you still have a fever, baby.’

‘feelin’ better, though.’ she sighs tiredly, content despite the flu. ‘you’re the perfect girlfriend, nicole. you take care of all of us. ‘nonna and doc and everybody. me.’

‘it’s important to look after family, especially the ones we find where and when we least expect them.’

it’s probably a little too sentimental, a little too philosophical for flu-waverly who smiles and nods, humming something to herself that sounds a lot like bruno mars and ‘just the way you are’.

 

it’s cheesy and it makes nicole laugh, light and in love.

 

she sings the song aloud in the shower, smiling just the same. and when she returns to bed, waverly is fast asleep. nicole settles under the blankets and draws herself nearer to the woman she loves. the fever broke and her skin is cooler to the touch now. waverly shimmies backwards so she’s properly spooned by the woman _she_ loves.

‘perfect,’ waverly says before drifting back to sleep.

  
  
iv.   
  
‘sheriff wants to see you.’

these are the words lonnie tells her when she steps back into the station after an easy patrol. she’d gone up main and circled by the schools, noting students putting blue solo cups in the fence to spell ‘homecoming’. she stopped to say hello to ms. patterson who was putting perennials in her planters for spring in several months.

                (they still have to survive another alberta winter, and god knows it gets frickin’ cold.)

she met bob jameson’s new newfoundland puppy. said hello to the coulter twins. and she even went out towards pussy willows to check on the revenant activity to report back to wynonna.

  
it was an easy patrol and nothing important sounded over dispatch while she was in service, so she isn’t quite sure what to expect when she knocks on the doorframe of nedley’s office.

he gestures for her to sit on the couch against the wall. she tries not to think about waverly beneath her and desperate, mind-blowing kisses.

‘i’m alright standing,’ she finally says. ‘been sitting all afternoon in the cruiser anyways.’

nedley just shrugs from behind his desk. ‘suit yourself.’

‘what can i do for you, sheriff?’ she asks after a beat, sliding her hat off her head. the sheriff’s department badge gives it a little more weight. the gravity seems appropriate.

‘i want you to be sheriff one day.’

nicole blinks. ‘sir?’

nedley wants her to be sheriff one day.

‘you’re perfect for the job, haught,’ he says.

she holds her stetson in her hands, shifting from her weight from her left foot to her right foot and then back to her left. she bounces when she’s unsure.

‘i’m far from perfect, sir. and i’m not originally from purgatory, either.’

nedley stares blankly at her.

‘who restarted the neighborhood watch program?’ he asks.

she knows she’s already dug her own grave so she might as well follow through and lie down in it, too.

‘i did, sir.’

‘and who volunteers regular for community days at the schools? who braves those parents for career day?’

‘i do, sir.’

‘and who organized the clean the streets initiative with the municipal department?’

‘i did, sir.’

‘and who—‘

she holds up a hand. ‘i get your point, sir.’

‘you better, haught. you’re already taking care of this town like it’s your own.’

nicole frowns. ‘it is my town, sir.’

he nods his head. ‘that’s what i mean, nicole. you’ll start as my deputy sheriff next monday. i’ll be mentoring you, so be sure to take good notes. there’s more to bring sheriff than paperwork and delegating.’

‘of course, sir,’ she responds.

she’s still not quite sure what brought this conversation about but nedley is already turning back to the files on his desk.

‘monday, deputy sheriff haught,’ he repeats without looking up at her again.  


she sidesteps out of his office and closes the door after her.

there’s a noisy crunch on the other side of the front counter. her eyes settle upon wynonna, chomping loudly at an apple. nicole takes three long strides and rescues several forms from the juice that’s dripping with every bite.

‘what’d nedley want?’ she asks around a mouthful of honeycrisp. 

‘he wants me to be sheriff one day.’

wynonna sets the apple on the counter and holds up her hand. ‘high five, haughtstuff.’

nicole doesn’t give her a high five, and she goes back to her apple.

‘you essentially setup my daughter in witness protection. and you’re a kickass shot even when you’re plastered on peppermint shots. you’re perfect for the job.’

nicole rubs at the back of her neck.

‘yeah. perfect...’ she mumbles.  
  
  
  
  
v.  
  
this feels like a fight.

their voices are raised and there’s a tension in the air that’s ready to snap.

it had started with waverly saying that they should go to the city to celebrate nicole’s promotion. that she meant what she’d said at the wainwright about getting dressed up more often and later something about a sexy black dress and candles. and nicole had snapped that she didn’t want to celebrate, that she didn’t know why waverly had to turn everything into some big thing.

     (of course she didn’t mean it. not really.

        she was angry and upset but not at waverly.

        never at waverly for loving her against all odds.) 

waverly knows how to give as good as she gets, courtesy of growing up with willa and wynonna. she doesn’t understand why nicole is being so obstinate, that nedley has offered her the perfect promotion to becoming sheriff one day. that nedley _wants_ her to be sheriff some day. she doesn’t understand the self-doubt. not when nicole is always so perfectly confident and charming and smart and brave.

she doesn’t understand and she’s preparing to go another round of shouting in her bedroom at the homestead. it’s like she’s a child again, trying to understand why willa is being mean to her without any explanation. it’s _confusing_. her chest heaves with frustration. why are they fighting?

                                                                                            why does this feel like a fight?

but then nicole _deflates_ and looks to the ground. she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans and she looks _small_. and waverly isn’t frustrated or angry but concerned.

‘i’m not perfect,’ nicole whispers. ‘i’m not perfect like you think i am. like everybody thinks i am. i can’t be.’

waverly steps toward nicole. slowly. she brings her finger beneath nicole’s chin. gently. and lifts her gaze.

‘baby, you are perfect, though.’

but nicole’s brown, brown eyes don’t soften. no, she pulls away from waverly’s touch and shakes her head. it’s a violent shake for the quiet of the room, the late afternoon sun spilling in through the sheer drapes of the bedroom window closest to the bed.  

she shakes her head and she says, ‘no. you don’t get it, waves.’ there’s desperation in her eyes with the words that spill from her mouth next. ‘i can’t always be perfect. i _can’t_. i’m _not_.’

she’s pleading for waverly to understand. to remember _i would never ask you to be something you’re not_. to realize that’s what nicole needs.

space to be imperfect.

to be flawed and a little bit broken. to need somebody else to be perfect for once.

because she’s got nothing else to give, right now. she’s running on empty and she doesn’t know how much of her is left for herself when she keeps giving so much away. she isn’t perfect.

‘i can’t keep living up to this expectation of perfection that all of you seem to have. it’s a tall pedestal and i’m going to fall off, waverly. i’m not perfect.’

‘nicole.’ waverly’s face is stern. it’s the look she gets when she’s about to tell everybody to shut up and stop being stupid. it’s not normally directed at her, though. ‘i’m only going to tell you this once because as romantic as it sounds in my head, i know it’s ridiculous and should only be said on the kind of television dramas gus would watch. okay?’

nicole nods slowly. ‘okay,’ she agrees.

‘nobody is actually expecting you to be literally perfect. when i tell you that you’re perfect, it’s because that’s how i see you. even with your imperfections. perfectly imperfect.

‘you’re the most amazing and wonderful person and the best girlfriend. you put up with my crazy family and this weird town and you give so, so much of yourself. you’re kind and generous and you’re allowed to be imperfect, to make mistakes. there isn’t any pedestal, baby. it’s all you. you’re _my_ kind of perfect, nicole haught.’

waverly reaches for her again and she doesn’t pull away. she leans into the touch, the comfort and the love that waverly exudes. waverly pushes up on her toes to whisper in nicole’s ear, ‘i’d never ask you to be somebody you’re not because you’re amazing just the way you are.’

**Author's Note:**

> This was 2,900 words of insomnia and not the 4,000 words that were due yesterday for a seminar that ended over a month ago. It's probably a manifestation of my imposter syndrome and coupled with other happenings in my life. Anyways, I hope this was somewhat coherent and that you enjoyed it. You can find me on tumblr at @awol-newt.


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